


Hello, Brooklyn

by violetwolfraven



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Exes, Fighting, Flashbacks, M/M, Mild Angst, Modern AU, Rock Band AU, couldn’t get it out of my head, getting back together(?), i got this from a tumblr post, so of course i had to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetwolfraven/pseuds/violetwolfraven
Summary: I got this from a tumblr post by @amscraypunk with an ask from @the-butter-churner. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so naturally I had to write a song fic based on it. And if you don’t like that I projected my hopes involving COVID-19 ending onto it, fuck you.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Hello, Brooklyn

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

It definitely _was not_ , but Race just laughed, nodding in response to his big brother’s question.

See, Race was usually on backup vocals, happy to let Jack take the spotlight while he played his bass. He didn’t often sing lead, but unusual circumstances called for unusual actions. The rest of the band was cool with it, so it was fine, anyway.

The band in question had been started when they were in 8th grade. It was Race and Jack, plus their other two brothers, Crutchie and Romeo, and their good friends, Sarah and Albert. Jack was their main vocalist and guitarist. Race, obviously, was on bass. Crutchie was their pianist. Romeo shredded on the violin, Sarah killed it on the drums, and Albert was their second guitarist.

The band had gone through a fair few names since 8th grade, but ultimately they’d settled on Carnation Sound just after high school graduation, landing a good-sized fan base and their first national tour a couple years later.

Having such a big band was good for having a unique sound, but it was also useful in the sense that if one of them was out sick, it didn’t actually affect their performance too much.

Unless Sarah was the one out. In that case, they had to either have Crutchie switch instruments to cover for her or call in her brother, Davey, as an equally amazing drummer who’d decided to pursue a ‘big kid job’ instead.

That only worked when Davey was in the area, which was rare. And...

And Race groaned, taking another sip of his coffee. His stupid ADHD brain always went off on tangents like that, especially when he forgot not to take his meds with orange juice and ended up having to substitute with caffeine.

Tangents such as how... how it was _totally awesome_ that the others all managed to maintain healthy, thriving, yet long-distance relationships, and Race couldn’t do that because he was a goddamn human disaster.

Whatever. That was why he was performing this song as their lead singer tonight.

A song that wasn’t even theirs, but they’d gotten permission to use for this exact purpose.

Sarah chuckled, sitting incorrectly in a chair across the room and spinning a drumstick around her fingers.

”Let the kid live a little, Jack. A little drama spices things up onstage.”

Race tossed a marshmallow across the room at her, “I am 7 _months_ younger than ya, Sarah.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all for spicin’ things up onstage,” Jack said dismissively, ignoring his brother, “But spicin’ things up is one thing and performin’ a song ya bought the rights to just to spite your ex is another.”

Something in Race’s chest twinged at that, because unfortunately, Jack was right.

Race had bought the rights to this song on behalf of the band for the one and only purpose of pissing off his ex. The others had let him do it because at the time, he’d been grieving a relationship of 4 years, but it seemed like none of them had actually expected him to make them use the arrangement they’d prepared for said song.

They should have learned by now that there were very few things Race would not do out of spite.

Well, it had been long enough after the breakup that Race wasn’t running quite so hot and it _wasn’t_ completely out of spite anymore, but they didn’t need to know that yet.

“Jack,” Romeo said mischievously, “I think you’re just tryin’ to get Racer to drop this because ya don’t remember your part.”

”I do _so_ remember my part you little shit. I wrote our adaptation.”

”Do not.”

”Do too!”

Race tuned out the rest of the argument as Crutchie sided with Romeo and Sarah sided with Jack, with Albert bouncing between the two like a kangaroo on crack, intent just on causing chaos.

Instead, he turned to Specs, their manager, leaning in so the others wouldn’t hear.

”You’re sure he’s here?”

Specs nodded, “He claimed his ticket. He ain’t exactly in the nosebleeds, but he’s here.”

Race nodded. They’d come up with this ticket-tracking method, where they could search for the status of one specific ticket, for the sake of keeping stalkers away.

However, it did occassionally come in handy for other things, having certain names flagged so you knew if your parents had claimed their seats or if your high school buddy had booked a seat next to the person you strongly suspected they were dating.

Or if your ex suddenly bought his first ticket to one of your shows since you were playing local clubs.

It was hard to believe, but the name was right there. He was right there.

Which meant he was out there, where Race could hear the crowd getting restless as intermission ended.

Jack seemed to have similar thoughts about time.

”Alright!” he called to the rest of the room, “Everybody fueled up? Ready to go knock their socks off?”

”No one says ‘knock their socks off!’” Crutchie called back with equal enthusiasm, “But yeah!”

The others cheered before Jack could protest and they all headed out onstage.

No matter how many times he got to hear it, Race didn’t think he’d ever get used to the roar of a crowd like that, all packed in and excited to see you.

Of course, they were all probably a bit surprised to see Race go to the front of the stage, but if anything that seemed to make them _more_ excited.

”What’s up, New York City?” he yelled into the mic.

 _God_ , those were the kinds of cheers every performer lived for.

“Yeah, good to see you, too! It’s good to be home, am I right?”

The rest of the band called their agreement into their mics, and Race had to motion for the audience to quiet down.

”Yeah, you all ain’t heard much of me singin’ anything but backups, so I think it’s about time that changed. Plus, we’s been meanin’ to try coverin’ some songs written by others, so... why not knock both out at once? Ready, guys?”

”Are _you_?” Romeo shot back, probably too loudly, making everybody laugh.

Race scanned the crowd dramatically, definitely _not_ hoping he’d _spot_ one face.

It was probably for the best that he didn’t see it. That face had always made it harder for Race’s already scattered brain to focus.

Still, he nodded back at Sarah and Albert, who started up the intro, a fair amount of fans screaming in excitement as they recognized it.

This song held so many memories, even though Race hadn’t even heard it until after the events were over.

It just described them so well that how could he _not_ think of Spot Conlon when he heard or sang these lyrics?

How could he not _see_ those memories with every word?

**“This city, is so pretty.”  
**

”This city is so fuckin’ ugly.”

Everyone liked to think that the first words they exchanged with the person who would turn their life upside down were going to be memorable and magical and romantic.

”Well, that’s certainly an opinion.”

For Race, it was... definitely one of those things.

He was 14, almost 15, practicing his bass on the roof, up high enough that people wouldn’t hear him.

Of course Jack had to choose that day to bring his science partner up there to work on their project, and while Race’s big brother was a great artist and a great guitar player, he wasn’t particularly great at math or science, being stuck in a class mostly populated by kids a year younger than him.

Like his science partner, who was a grade under Jack and a grade over Race. And given that he was technically _less_ than a year older, Race already knew him when he was introduced.

Or, knew _of_ him. He’d never had an actual conversation with Spot Conlon, but how could you miss the cute boy who was practically your age and you occasionally made awkward eye contact with in the cafeteria?

The cute boy who got in fights all the time, with kids his age, with kids older than him, even with teachers, usually in defense of others. Who got suspended even more than Jack did.

Of course, Jack got caught fighting more, but he hurt his opponents a lot less and therefore got less consequences. Spot fought smarter and more ruthlessly, almost never in front of adults. It was the bruises that gave him away, and they were always more severe than Race’s big brother would even think about dealing out.

And of course, Jack didn’t hold grudges as long as Spot did. Crutchie, Romeo, and Race had a running joke about that being because he had a bad memory. In truth, Jack’s memory was somewhat random. He’d remember to carry around Romeo’s epipen and forget what shirt he was wearing in the same day.

And forget a pencil downstairs, which was what lead to him going down to their apartment to get one, which left Spot alone with Race.

Race hadn’t known it yet, but that conversation with his crush where Spot insulted the city of New York with every bad word in his vocabulary had been the beginning of something powerful. Something that would change both of them and their friends and _the world_ , to some extent.

It would definitely shake Race’s life to its core, and more memories flowed as the song continued.

**“Under moonlit skies we’ll be hanging like a cigarette.”**

Sitting on the rooftop talking late into the night. Sometimes Race singing or playing his bass.

Spot catching him smoking up there once, a nasty habit picked up in a bad foster home to cope.

”You should quit. It’d be a shame to ruin that nice voice of yours.”

Race struggling, relapsing, then struggling again throughout the rest of high school, but ultimately actually quitting, mostly because of Spot.

**“So stunning, start runnin’.”**

Albert being stunned to learn that Race had a crush he wasn’t running from for once. Not believing him when he said he might actually make a move this time.

Romeo laughing and saying he had it bad when Race showed him the song he wrote about Spot, all raw emotions about dark rooftops and smoke fading into the night and feeling crazy in love.

”Been mad in love with you for so long, couldn’t help but write a goddamn song. Don’t know how you don’t see, all the kinds of crazy ya make me feel.”

Romeo being right that Race had it bad, and Jack demanding to know who that song was about but not getting an answer out of either of them.

**“Tonight's like a knife, would you cut me with your kiss?”**

Race being absolutely pissed, mostly out of fear, when Spot called him in the middle of the night when they were 15 and 16, needing him to pick him up really fast because he came out to his parents out of spite and he needed someone to drive him to his best friend’s house.

“If you ever do somethin’ this stupid again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Driving angrily to Hotshot’s house but pulling over halfway there, arguing very loudly.

Spot kissing him for the first time, which resulted in them making out until they both came to their senses and reached a silent consensus not to talk about what just happened.

**“I bleed, red lips, you’re unbelievable.”**

Race tripping over an amp cord after a gig, smacking his face on a speaker, and bleeding from his nose all down the front of his shirt. All because Jack had finally gotten wise to who Kinds of Crazy was about and invited Spot, knowing they were playing it at that gig, without telling Race until they were switching places as lead vocalists between songs and it was too late for him to do anything about it.

”Smile Racer, your boyfriend’s in the front row.”

Spot inevitably realizing that the song was about him and kissing Race despite the blood when he got out to greet the small crowd.

**”Can’t miss this chance to take you, out. Here’s my invitation.”**

Their first date, to the zoo, where they got Dippin Dots and bought each other stuffed animals as a souvenir.

Race still had that meerkat plushie. He wondered if Spot still had the wolf. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Spot was sentimental, but the breakup hadn’t been pretty.

”You’re a doof, y’know that?”

Spot thinking the stuffies were kinda dumb, but always having his on his bed when Race went over to where he was living.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Take the streets all night 'cause we sleep all day. When the world comes crashing down who's ready to party?”**

The two of them being a force to be reckoned with, unstoppable and uncontrollable. They were 16 and 17 and the world was their oyster. They felt invincible as long as they were together.

”Wanna go do somethin’ _really_ fun?”

Sneaking out more weekend nights than they didn’t, exploring the city until they knew every corner of it and getting jokes made about where they were by their _super_ mature friends. Taking naps on couches together instead of actually watching a movie during days.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Coast to coast I'll take you down in flames. Let the good times roll, we can let go. Everybody knows there's a party at the end of the world.”**

Testing their luck and driving out of the city, spending hours out where they could stargaze, feeling like the world was wide and they could do whatever they wanted with it.

Feeling like the world was a lot smaller as COVID-19 happened.

Strain on their relationship as they barely got to see each other. Spot doing okay as an introvert but Race feeling like the world was ending some days because of how lonely he was. Games and conversations over zoom could only do so much. And Race loved his brothers and mother, but they fought more being stuck in a small space together.

”Hey, we’re gonna be okay. I miss ya, too, but the less we risk it, the sooner this can be over.”

Spot pretending he wasn’t scared or stressed by the events of the world because Race was scared and stressed, but he could also tell that he was lying.

 **“This city was your city.** **Heels on the sidewalk beggin' for a backbeat.”**

Getting to see each other again over the summer, but not under good circumstances. Well, good that it was happening, bad that it was needed.

Running from teargas and rubber bullets at a protest, getting separated from friends and family and both of them being terrified until they finally got back to Denton’s house and found out that everyone was okay and nobody got arrested.

”We’re goin’ back out again tomorrow.”

Medda and Denton and the other parents knowing they couldn’t stop them if they tried when 19-year-old Jack voiced all of the teenagers’ feelings on the issue. And as worried as they were, Race was pretty sure most of them were proud, too.

 **“Don't worry, I fight dirty.** **Tonight's like a right hook, knock you off your feet.”**

None of them stopping despite being banned from real protests by parents once things started getting _really_ dangerous, writing new songs and monetizing YouTube videos to raise money and help fund others’ actions.

”Get outta here if ya know what’s good for ya.”

Almost getting mugged on the way to Albert’s house for a rehearsal once, and being shocked and a bit scared when Spot pulled out his own knife and got the guy to leave them alone.

 **“I'll be yours truly unbelievable.** **Can’t miss this chance to take you, out. Here's your invitation.”**

The fire behind those protests (unfortunately) dying out a bit, and the friend group going to a few more as it got less heated but mostly just keeping donating money through the band. Specs becoming their unofficial manager as he helped edit, advertise, and spread their music.

COVID finally going away, at least mostly, thanks to all the hardworking people who developed and administered the vaccine, and the band finally getting to do in-person gigs again.

Going out with Spot the night after Race’s graduation, to go stargazing for the first time in over a year.

”I love you.”

Race being surprised that he was brave enough to say it first and then happy as Spot said it back.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Take the streets all night 'cause we sleep all day. When the world comes crashing down who's ready to party?”**

Taking more and more gigs. Taking each one Specs could get them, spending every spare minute practicing, barely limited by time anymore because Romeo was the only one still in high school.

Spot coming to every gig he could, there to support them. Him helping Race work through writer’s block, suggesting rhymes he didn’t think of, being completely supportive of everything involving the band.

The first gig where the venue called _them_ and specifically asked for a performance instead of the other way around. Spot cheering them on with everyone else’s partners and all their friends.

”Ever think ‘bout... I dunno, makin’ our own place in the world?”

Spot asking him to move out of his mom’s house and get their own apartment when they were 19 and 20, and Race saying yes. Them accidentally adopting a cat after they found her in a dumpster.

Them being happy and in love and laughing it off when their friends called them a romcom cliché.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Coast to coast I'll take you down in flames. Let the good times roll, we can let go. Everybody knows there's a party at the end of the world.”**

The band getting bigger, becoming well-known throughout New York. Striking a deal with an established manager so that Specs could still stay partially in charge of them.

Things with Spot being good. Better than good; amazing. The band was starting to make enough money that they could afford nice dates every once in a while. Spot was finally starting to get good jobs as an architect, so things were great. Maybe even better than Race thought they were.

”He wants to marry you, y’know. He just hasn’t proposed cause he think you’re both too young.”

Complete shock when Hotshot said that, because Race honestly couldn’t picture himself living past 25. He logically knew he would, but it was still shocking to hear that Spot wanted to spend _forever_ together.

Realizing that he wanted that, too, as impossible as it for some reason seemed.

The band getting an opportunity to go on their first tour to play their first _major_ album.

**“Kiss it all goodbye. Tonight you've never been more alive. You’re so alive.”**

”I can’t go with you.”

Everyone seemed to think that the first words in the fight that would turn their life upside down were going to be notable and heartbreaking and explosive.

”Well, I can’t stay.”

For Race, it wasn’t any of those things.

It started as a simple, regular fight. A ‘I’m really going to miss you,’ and ‘then come with me’ that had escalated to out of control levels because they were both stubborn bastards and of course it did.

For Race, it was about the fact that the band had agreed that their decision had to be unanimous, but if they _didn’t_ take this, they might never get another chance to perform anywhere but New York. And it was a huge chance, especially impressive for a group so young. Jack was 22. Crutchie and Sarah were 21. Race and Albert were 20 and Romeo was 19. If they kickstarted a career now, who knew what they could accomplish when they got older.

For Spot, it was about how his career was finally taking off, too, and he couldn’t just leave to follow Race around the country for months. He was getting real contracts to make plans for real buildings, building up his architect cred. And plus, Hotshot and Denton were practically his family now, and he didn’t want to leave them.

It was about how the tour would be 6 months, and that would be a really long time to be separated and it would be hard.

But then it started being about ‘you care about your career more than you care about me.’

**”You're not afraid to die and I can see it in your eyes, your eyes.”**

The fight actually being a series of smaller fights over the next couple weeks, which all reached the epic conclusion.

”If you wanna go, go. Just don’t expect me to be waitin’ for ya when ya get back.”

“The fuck makes you think I’m comin’ back?”

Race packing his bags and walking out that door, pissed as hell and with the full intention of never coming back.

Crying on Romeo’s shoulder when he got home that night and cooled down and realized he’d just _ended_ things with Spot, probably for good.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Take the streets all night 'cause we sleep all day. When the world comes crashing down who's ready to party?”**

The band going on that tour, partying and playing all night and Race pretending like his world wasn’t crashing down as he mourned his first and only relationship.

Hearing _Hello, Brooklyn_ for the first time and crying about it and then getting angry again and not even really knowing why.

”I’m buyin’ the right to perform _Hello, Brooklyn._ Might make a good opener for us.”

The others knowing why he really bought it, but Jack writing an arrangement specific to them, anyway.

Race never getting up the courage to actually perform that song over their 6 month tour.

**“Hello Brooklyn, Hey LA. Coast to coast I'll take you down in flames. Let the good times roll, we can let go. Everybody knows there's a party at the end of the world.”**

Race channeling his feelings into almost an entire album’s worth of angry, anguished, angsty songs, which got them their second tour almost immediately after the first one ended, this one international. The others pretending they didn’t know it was just so that they wouldn’t go back to New York anytime soon.

Hiring new crew members to replace the ones who didn’t want to stay on after their contracts expired. Finding an excuse to stay in Boston for the few weeks the others were home seeing their families and catching up with friends, then getting on the first of many planes.

”It sucks when someone makes you feel so much, angry doesn’t quite describe how it hurts. And my brothers say I’ve changed cause of how much I miss ya. Make my life and break it, oh why dontcha?”

Race getting his feelings out through performing his songs, even if he wasn’t brave enough to sing the leads and mostly stuck to backing Jack or Crutchie up.

Picking his broken pieces up as time went by, healing a bit, maybe, but still never getting up enough courage to perform _Hello, Brooklyn_ , even if they kept rehearsing it.

**“London, Tokyo, Boston, Frisco. DC, Chicago, Baltimore, Toronto. Memphis, Rio, Dublin, Mexico, Paris, here we go.”**

Seeing beautiful things all around the world, singing and playing in countries most people only dreamed of seeing. Seeing constellations New York didn’t get and thinking so much about how one person would love all this.

Realizing it hadn’t been fair of him to ask Spot to come with him. And it was a double-edged sword, with how Spot shouldn’t have asked him to stay, but even if they were both in the wrong, Race still loved him.

Realizing he would get Spot back if he could.

Deciding to shoot his shot, when Specs remarked in confusion a month ago that Spot had bought a ticket to their New York show.

**”Everybody knows there’s a party at the end of the world.”**

Performing in New York for the first time in a year and a half, finally, singing what needed to be sang.

As Race took in the applause as he finished the song, he wondered what Spot was thinking. If he knew what Race was trying to say, here, by coming back and singing _this specific song._

He knew the others had read what was going on when he didn’t start singing angrily, and they were pretty confused right about now. Albert had abandoned his own microphone and come up to sing face to face with Race around the third chorus, his eyes asking _what the hell are you doing?_

Was this a good idea? No. But Spot had turned Race’s life upside down. He’d stood by him through danger and loneliness and awkwardness, and _damn_ if he wasn’t going to try to save that one last time.

Too late to turn back now.

”You guys liked that, huh?” he called to the crowd as they cheered, “Well, it was _Hello, Brooklyn_ , or Sarah singing _Stars_ by Alessia Cara, and y’all seemed a bit too hyped for a slow song like that. Glad you enjoyed it, New York! Now back to shit we actually wrote!”

Jack definitely bumped him a bit too hard for it to be unintentional, but Race could live with his big brother’s judgement, somehow.

He’d sent the message. Now he just had to hope Spot would take it.

...

Sneaking out of the hotel wasn’t easy, but it also wasn’t the first time Race had snuck away from fangirls, so he managed to drive out of town without too much trouble.

A red Ford was already waiting there, and Race wasn’t sure why he was surprised that Spot hadn’t changed much when he got out of the car.

Their old stargazing spot. Once such a safe place, but now awkward with how they were just staring at each other, neither wanting to make the first move.

“I’m glad ya got the message,” Race muttered finally.

Spot just rolled his eyes, “ _Stars_ by Alessia Cara? How could I miss it?”

“Right. Yeah. I mean, I figured it was better to make it easy for ya.”

Oh, wait, that was implying he was stupid, and their relationship wasn’t exactly what people would call ‘okay’ right now, so that probably wasn’t smart.

”Wait, I didn’t mean to imply—“

“Why’d ya ask me here, Race?” Spot interrupted, “We broke up almost two years ago. You ain’t so much as texted me a meme in that time and now ya sing a callout at a concert and meet me on our hill and act like there ain’t nothin’ alarmin’ about that. So what do you want?”

Race knew he couldn’t just straight up say he wanted to get back together without making him walk away. He had to come up with a more tactful way to say it.

”Why’d ya buy a ticket to this concert?”

Spot shrugged, “Missed Cowboy.”

”Bullshit. You and Jack never got along.”

“Missed Sarah.”

Race sighed, ”You know who all the songs in Lost and Found are about, right?”

”Am I stupid? Of course,” Spot rolled his eyes, “I know your songwriting style well enough to tell those were your work.”

”Every word was true.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, Spot...” Race took a deep breath, “I wrote those songs cause I was hurtin’ over you and it didn’t get better for months. It’s still not better.”

Spot took a deep breath, and Race tried not to focus on the slight shakiness of it.

“Do ya have a point, here?”

”I know I messed up,” Race summed up, “A lot. But I ain’t over you, and I... honestly, I would be shocked if ya showed up to a Carnation Sound concert because you was over me.”

“You wanna try it again,” Spot realized, “Us.”

He wasn’t giving any signs about what he wanted either way.

”I want you back,” Race admitted.

It was rare that he showed his true cards like this. His real emotions. Especially when it made him look like he wasn’t all optimism and corny jokes. But right now, Race had to show his cards to get his point across. If it would show Spot that he was being genuine, it would be worth it.

”I wanna feel invincible again,” he said quietly, “Like I did when I had you there beside me. I wanna feel like you’ll catch me if I fall and be there so to back ya up in fights because if we go down, we go down together. Do or die and... in sickness and health. Like we was both too damn stupid to admit we wanted.”

Spot didn’t deny it, but his eyes stayed hard and cold.

”So, what?” he asked, “The last couple years never happened? We kiss and make up and go bang in that apartment I’s been livin’ in alone?”

To anyone else, he wouldn’t seem anything but cold.

Race could tell in the tension of his shoulders how scared he was. The hardness in his eyes trying to hide how he was trying not to cry.

”We pretend we never broke each other’s hearts?” Spot asked, “Act like those fights never happened, like it wasn’t a big problem that both of us wantin’ to follow our dreams was enough to break us up?”

”No,” Race said quickly, “We... coffee?”

Spot raised an eyebrow, “Coffee. At midnight?”

“We both messed up,” Race admitted, “I won’t pretend otherwise. I think our big problem was that we moved too fast. Acted like it was gonna last forever younger than anyone should.”

”You don’t think it’ll last forever?”

“Who knows? Who _cares_? We’re _still_ young. Nobody can promise forever. All I can promise is that right now, I’m yours if you’ll let me be.”

That wasn’t enough to make everything they’d said while fighting go away.

But hopefully it was enough to make it alright to try at being together again.

Hopefully it was enough that if they actually tried this again, someday those harsh words wouldn’t matter so much.

”Well, Corona does miss you.”

Race laughed. They’d named the cat that because she knocked shit over all the time and was a bit of a natural disaster. A lovable natural disaster, but a disaster all the same.

”Is that a ‘yes’ to coffee?”

Spot still wasn’t looking him in the eye and that was making him nervous.

”Y’know why I became an architect?”

That wasn’t the response Race was expecting, but he shook his head.

“Because I always hated this city,” Spot said simply, “I thought it was butt-ugly and I wanted to make some small part of it be less butt-ugly.”

Race laughed, suddenly realizing how close he was to tears, “This city is so fuckin’ ugly.”

Judging by the smile on his face, Spot remembered that conversation, too. After all this time. Almost 8 years.

”It’s less ugly when you’re in it,” he said quietly, “I thinks that’s why it was so hard for me to think ‘bout you _not_ bein’ in it.”

Race nodded, “I was just as scared to be without you.”

He was still scared to be without him, only... now he didn’t really know what was going to happen. He didn’t know if Spot was going to forgive him or not.

”I ain’t promisin’ anything crazy, ‘Hattan, but coffee sounds good.”

Race smiled, “That’ll do, Brooklyn.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song is Hello Brooklyn by All Time Low. :)


End file.
